


What Are You Talking About

by istie



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Cross-cultural, F/M, Flirting, Lost in Translation, Sex, Sexytimes, Shepard is clueless, sniper arm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-12-14 17:04:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/istie/pseuds/istie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garrus and Shepard walk into a bar.  Garrus is approached by a turian woman; Shepard is utterly clueless.  Garrus and Shepard walk out of a bar.  Garrus and Shepard go back to the Normandy, very, very drunk.  Set in ME3 somewhere, rated M for explicit sex and alcohol consumption.  One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Are You Talking About

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the following prompt:
> 
> "I'd like to see a female turian hit on Garrus, right in front of Shepard. Except Shepard doesn't realize what's going on and isn't bothered at all. Cue Garrus being confused that she doesn't seem to care, and when he explains later, Shepard finds the whole thing hilarious.
> 
> Not necessary, but would be nice bonuses:  
> \- Shepard wants to know about all of the other turian flirting she might have missed.  
> \- Comfort sex if Garrus is a little hurt about Shepard's seeming apathy"

Looking back on it, Shepard still couldn’t see what the big deal was.

_“You’re a sniper, aren’t you?”_

_“Yeah, I am.”_

He’d looked sideways at her, but she’d just sipped her drink, revelling in the delicacies only Aria could sneak through the black market.

_“I could tell – it’s that arm.”_

_“Oh, really?”_

She’d chalked it up as, well, a bit odd, but hey, she didn’t know half of what constituted turian small talk, and she wasn’t about to flip out that someone recognized her man as a sniper. To be quite honest, she could tell at a distance, too. His plates were worn down differently; his armour was marked. It was damn obvious. So what if someone could tell?

_“What do you shoot?”_

_“Ah, well, in a pinch I can deal with a Mantis, but the Krysae’s my one true love.”_

She’d elbowed him at that, amused that he’d pick a mere Krysae over her. But he’d nudged her back, and she’d just smiled. She knew he actually hated the Krysae and envied her her Widow dearly.

_“A Krysae boy, eh? You must have wicked recoil dampers in your suit – or, no, I’m wrong. That arm’s obviously strong enough on its own.”_

_“Well, I tend to practice with a Black Widow. You get used to it after a while.”_

He’d flagged down the bartender at that point and ordered another drink. She’d raised an eyebrow at him and he’d half-shrugged. The female turian had bought her own drink and settled onto the stool next to them. They’d continued to converse about sniper rifles for about fifteen minutes before Shepard had politely excused herself to retreat to the washroom, the effects of five vodka martinis all-too-quickly working their way through her system.

Upon emerging, Garrus had fairly seized her by the arm and dragged her out of the club.

“What the hell, Shepard?”

Her eyes were wide, searching his face for a clue as to what he was so riled up about. “What is it, Garrus? I just went to the washroom. Even for my implants, that was a lot of vodka. And you did pay the tab, I presume?”

“No, fuck, I mean yes, Spirits, Shepard—” He shook his head to clear the effects of whatever the hell he’d been drinking. “I mean the other woman!”

“Uh—” What?

“She was _flirting_ with me!” He hit the button on the elevator and it flew along the shaft.

“She was what?” It was her turn to shake her head.

“She was flirting with me! I thought you’d be – you know – _angry_ or something!” He looked positively distraught, Shepard thought, though she was willing to bet that at least _some_ of that was the alcohol currently running through his bloodstream. She’d gotten Garrus drunk enough times to know that while he could handle more than enough booze, it got to him, and it _stayed ‘_ got to him’ until at least the next morning.

“Uh, Garrus, I—”

He cut her off. “Her subvocals were off the damn _charts,_ Shepard, and asking me about my _sniper_ arm? Spirits, Shepard, that’s—” He hid his head in his hands. “That’s as good as asking which arm—hand—I use to—you know—oh hell …”

It was silent for a moment in the elevator shaft. Even Avina seemed to know when to hold her tongue.

Suddenly Shepard giggled. She couldn’t help it. She was amused. The whole situation was ridiculous. Plus she was arguably a bit tipsy. First she giggled, then she guffawed, then she all-out laughed. By the time the elevator got to the docking bay, she was doubled over in laughter, Garrus standing there aghast. She managed to straighten up and they stumbled back to the ship, Shepard still laughing like she’d been hit with a can of nitrous oxide.

They dodged crew members all the way up to her quarters, where she collapsed on her bed, still laughing, shaking her head. Garrus stood at the top of her stairs, still looking completely lost.

“I… I don’t get it, Shepard, what’s so funny?”

“Oh you big turian ... silly.´ C’mere. Sit with me.” She patted the bed beside her. He just about fell down the stairs and sat down beside her, draping his arms around her shoulders, essentially slumping on her.

She pushed him back off her onto the bed, then swung her leg over him to sit lightly on his waist. “Garrus,” she began, “I love you dearly, but you’re a bit thick. How was I supposed to know that she was flirting with you?”

“I— ” he began. She put her hand over his mouth.

“Shh. Let me finish.” She leaned in, taking her hand off of his mouth. “My dear, darling Garrus, I know nothing about how to flirt with a turian. As far as I knew she was literally asking about your sniping skills! And, sweetie, you _do_ look like a sniper. Your armour’s all … different. Your arms aren’t even.”

He looked to the side. “I guess I should have thought of that.” He paused. “But, Shepard, I … I … doesn’t it bother you that another woman was flirting with me?”

He refused to meet her eyes. She ducked down and caught his gaze, then brushed his mandibles with her cheek. “Sweetie, if I’d known she was gunning for you, I would have shut her down like a geth hub on a … geth ship.” She shook her head, somewhat disbelieving of her terrible word … functions …

“So you… you don’t… you’re not… all the other times… ”

“Oh honey.” She dropped all her weight onto him, and he jumped. “You wonderful, strong, magnificent, handsome…” She could feel his plates beginning to shift as she stretched her legs out alongside his turned-in legs. “Genius, crack-shot… “ She licked his mandible, bottom to top, encircling the rounded tip with her tongue then flattening it as she drew it up over the scaly skin. He shuddered.

“Gorgeous…” She slipped her hands under the hem of his civvie shirt and drew it up over his head, eliciting no complaint from the apparently-mute turian underneath her.

“ _Sexy…_ ” She pulled her own shirt over her head and planted a kiss on his mouth as his hands came up behind her and unhooked her bra (impressively deftly, given his intoxicated state).

“ _Only_ man for me…” His talons found her waist and he quickly pulled the rest of her clothing off, tossing it across the room.

“And…” She raised herself up off him, backing up, slipping down off the edge of the bed, drawing him up with her as she hooked her fingers in his pants and quickly stripped him nude.

“The man…” She took his fully-emerged cock in her hand and stroked it once. He fell back on his elbows, a shiver running through his body, a soft whimper emerging from his mouth.

“Who belongs _only_ …” Another stroke, this time harder, and this time Garrus groaned, his member twitching in her hand.

“To _me_.” She plunged her mouth down onto his steel-blue cock, her tongue twisting around its slight ridges, her hand pumping the base firmly. Garrus moaned again, one hand coming off the bed to wrap around the back of her head, pressing himself as deep into her throat as she would let him.

She sucked and licked, the tip of her tongue dancing along his tip, his moans becoming softer and louder as she alternated between light, teasing strokes and strong, firm ones. Her right hand slipped behind his lower back and pushed him into her mouth even further, prompting the deepest sound yet – a growl that came right from his chest.

She drew her mouth off of him, her lips shining with saliva, and fairly slithered her way back up onto the bed, pushing him down underneath her again, this time settling her weight slightly lower on his body. She straddled his hips, staring into his eyes as they gazed back, piercing, star-like blue, from the pillow under his head.

“Garrus Vakarian,” she said, “I want you to be perfectly aware of one thing.”

“And what’s that?” Garrus replied, his voice deep with desire and longing.

“I may not be able to tell when someone flirts with you,” she continued, bobbing her hips down to brush his cock with her skin, making him shiver, “but, rest assured…” She lowered her hips again, nestling his tip within her folds.

“Rest assured that no one else in the entire galaxy will ever touch you like this, because you are _mine_ , Garrus Vakarian: _mine_ and _no one else’s_ , not _ever_ , not _ever_ and _ever_ , so _help_ me God, a _men_.” She slid herself down onto him all the way to the hilt, his breath hitching in time with hers as she began to move in rhythm.

He meets her halfway when she’s next coming down, thrusting up so that she gasps, her arms collapsing and her upper body coming down to rest on his cowl. He wraps his arms around her and thrusts up into her again, and it is her turn to moan as she feels the ridges she had so recently bathed with her tongue sliding against her inner walls, massaging her, arousing her further.

They move together, Shepard’s lips caressing his mandibles and markings, Garrus’ tongue tracing her jawline and collarbone, her arms nestled in his cowl, his arms locked around her waist and hips. Their eyes are closed, their breathing synchronizes, and Shepard’s moans get higher as Garrus’ become lower until, at last, Shepard’s shriek is drowned out by Garrus’ roar as she clenches around him, causing him to release in tandem, their bodies tensing before falling limp, limbs entangled, lungs straining; lovers sated.

They remain silent for several minutes, slowly shifting into a position in which they can cuddle, Shepard slipping off Garrus to lay beside him, Garrus cradling her in his arms.

Garrus speaks without opening his eyes. “So you’re not jealous?”

Shepard laughs softly. “Jealous? Never. I know I’m the one you go home with.” She opened her eyes. “But.”

“But?” He met her gaze with a single eye.

She poked him gently in the chest and smiled. “You may as well go on and tell me about ‘all the other times’.”

He groaned softly. “Ah, Shepard…”

Shepard’s grin only widened.


End file.
